


Tales Of the Future Already In the Past

by slightlyjillian



Series: The Negotiation Of Lineage [3]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Action/Adventure, Age of Sail, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Bromance, F/M, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-28
Updated: 2010-06-29
Packaged: 2017-10-10 07:43:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/97310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slightlyjillian/pseuds/slightlyjillian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Continuation of <i>As The Days Do Come But The Years Do Go</i>. Fantasy AU. The decision to return home does not always take you to the place which you remember.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Glimpse Of All We Missed

The Yuy holdings on the first colony were white-painted walls, open hallways and the most beautiful views of the pearl-colored sand beaches. Nichol had seen Heero and Hilde's daughter to meet with Doctor J, who was frightening, and Sylvia Noventa, which reassured the man somewhat. Once dismissed, Nichol realized he had no where to be.

No orders. Nothing to be delivered or inspected, although Trowa had suggested they explore Heero's armory later. He'd slept well, his stomach was satisfied with good food and he had freedom to explore the city.

Nichol and Trowa had their leisure while stranded on the fourth colony, but this was a different sort of luxury. He had credit on Heero's tab.

While he might have taken the stairs two at a time and crossed the courtyard with a quick step, he stopped completely when he recognized his observer. "Captain Po," he acknowledged.

"Thirsty, soldier?" Her smile never was more than a crinkle into her lips, but Nichol recognized a friendly face when he saw it.

"Never had the occasion to trade the Maganac for liquor," Nichol admitted. "Priorities."

"Is that your way of saying I'm going to drink you under the table?" Sally chuckled. She walked toward him staying only far enough away to visually gauge his body weight.

"Impossible," Nichol shook his head. "I have a lot of catching up to do."

^^^

Sally already had a favorite place and introduced Nichol to some of the scalawag regulars who shouted whenever they were given a cue. The dim lighting made it hard for Nichol to identify what he was drinking or how often his mug was being swapped for a refilled glass. Someone had an accordion that didn't play a note at half volume, and it turned out that Nichol knew a lot of the same songs Sally did.

"It's been too long," Nichol spoke over his glass, then took a long drink to cover up whatever he'd been about to say.

"You're not going to cry on my shoulder, are you?" Sally laughed. "Sobbing drunk?"

"Never." Nichol wiped at his eyes. "Who thought I'd live to see... how old am I?"

"I don't know," Sally said loudly. She cued the bar and a chorus of cheers momentarily covered the rowdy music.

"The damn ship wrecked and I thought I was going to mess it all up, time and again." Nichol dropped his forehead to the table. "When the Maganac showed up that first time, I thought..."

"You are going to break down, aren't you?" Sally shoved his shoulder, laughing. "You need to run that through your system with something a little more lively. Let's dance."

She lifted him with no small strength in her arms, and Nichol used the first turns to find his legs. A few of the blokes stomped their feet. Eventually, they joined in the dancing, so Nichol risked running into the other men as much as tromping on Sally. She might have been leading. If true, he refused to admit it as his eyes tried to keep up with what he was seeing.

"Hey partner." Sally grabbed his chin. "Stay with me."

"Urgh," Nichol replied. He did feel a chill just then.

Sally's expression was hard to decipher, rather quite like Trowa's could get if Nichol talked about the third colony. Except her eyes didn't seem to stop twinkling. "You shaved," she observed, letting her fingers explore his jaw up to his sideburns.

"Recently," he agreed, reaching out to grab a table and pulled himself onto a stool. The others remained dancing all the same. Two men doing something that might have been a handstand, or was Nichol upside down?

"Schbeiker doesn't let you have facial hair?" Sally summoned another drink for herself. "None for him."

Nichol lifted his arm as if to protest, but it fell heavy against the table and seemed as good of a place to set his head. "Hilde don't care."

"She probably wants you back with her, I'd imagine."

"Dunno." Nichol curled his back and used his entire torso to lift his head--propping himself up with a fist. "Nothing newer than to watch over the..." Sally made a shushing noise. _Right, can't call her the princess yet,_ Nichol tried again, "Ha... her daughter."

"The girl is old enough," Sally calculated.

"But she was supposed to grow up here," Nichol groaned. "I ruined that. She's not had the opportunity to... study... oh." His head slipped from his arm. What had he been saying? To whom was he talking?

He reached toward Sally and said, "How long have you been here?"

Sally put a finger along her nose. "Quite a long time. Like you, I was entrusted with a certain someone's safety."

_Sylvia_, Nichol nodded.

"We went through the fifth colony, then Wufei brought us here after Heero extended an offer to protect her. It's not a secret that she's in the palace, but she'll be happier to have a little sister of sorts. Syl cared very much for Heero, after all."

Nichol's eyelids stayed closed longer than they remained open. Sylvia was the last heir to the Noventa line. Treize had killed her brothers and father during the revolution. Heero had been part of that attack. Yet, Heero had let the girl live. Mercy? Strategy? A fall back in case Treize became a corrupt leader? Or had he suspected Milliardo?

He must have blacked out, because his head was on the table again and Sally jostled his shoulder.

"How long?"

"We've been here a while," Sally answered. "We might get dinner if we go to the kitchen."

Was he supposed to have been somewhere?

Sally supported him and swayed only briefly under his weight.

"You're tough," he complimented.

"I've had to be."

^^^

Breakfast the next morning was a celebration in Halyna's honor, so Nichol cleaned himself again and took a seat next to the front tables. Finding a space reserved for him next to Trowa, he drank a few swallows of water then ran his fingers along his jaw. Catching Sally's look from across the hall, he smiled.

"Have you decided what you're going to do next?" Trowa asked, precisely cutting his meat into bite-sized squares.

Nichol paused from lifting his complete slab toward his mouth and spoke, "I'm still waiting to hear back from Hilde." He tore a piece with his teeth and savored the flavor. "If they want me to stay with Halyna I can't imagine what use I am at this point, besides being near-kin. I cannot teach her anything compared to Doctor J or..."

"I thought you were doing fine enough," Trowa interrupted.

"Ha, thanks." Nichol licked his lips. "Perhaps, but Sylvia grew up a princess and might have me at an advantage. At least in identifying fashion."

"Or table manners," Trowa noticed quietly, teasing. Then he added, "I'm not sure how I feel about the Princess Noventa."

"Heero spared her," Nichol commented, putting down his meat and looking at the blonde woman in her finery. She caught him looking and studied the pair of them for a moment before smiling and turning away. "She seems nice."

"Noventa was nice," said Trowa.

"You knew him?" Nichol asked. Nichol's parents had gone to the northern castle for only one season while Noventa held the throne. It had been so long ago that Nichol mostly remembered being told to sit still or shush. It had been around that time he must have met Dorothy Catalonia as well.

Trowa leaned back to let a serving girl refill his water. He turned the glass to look inside then drank cautiously. "Noventa had the best of intentions, but none of that prevented him from leaving our kingdom in ruins."

Nichol's gaze flickered downward. While the colonies were not happy with or loyal to many of the kings over the years, Trowa had never bothered to indicate a preference. During their time together on the island everything had been in the present. Sunlight meant pursuing tasks to fill daily needs. Darkness was when they would sleep or tell stories, and those were always designed for a child's ears.

"I apologize. Now isn't the time to talk about such things." Trowa put his glass down. "Where were you yesterday?"

"Pardon?" Nichol asked in surprise. "Yesterday? I explored the city..."

"Yes?" Trowa asked. "Was it interesting?"

"I drank a bit much," Nichol admitted.

"Ah, I see," Trowa breathed a laugh. "Does that mean we're to look at the armory today?"

"Oh," Nichol winced. "Right, yes... the armory."

"It'll need to be soon," Trowa hurried to add. Doctor J was standing to address those assembled and was trying to get their quiet attention. "I must leave."

"What?" Nichol exclaimed, but drew several angry looks not the least of which was the Doctor himself. Halyna covered over her own laughter with a tight-smile.

He scowled which caused Trowa's lips to smile somewhat, but any further questions had to be left until after the colony's formalities.

^^^

Trowa had pushed away from the table as quickly as he was able, muttering an excuse. Nichol lifted his hands in frustrated acceptance and lingered to check on Halyna's well-being. She met him halfway and he walked her to her rooms.

"I learned that these used to be my father's chambers," Halyna said excitedly. "And they had a portrait from when he was small. I must show it to you. They say that I look like him." She smiled up at Nichol so that all he could see was her mother, but he nodded anyway. The colony needed her to be her father's daughter. Halyna's paternity made all the difference.

Nichol had been in the front room with Halyna before, when they'd been hidden away after coming in like vagabonds from the _Peacemillion_'s hold. The box of letters still sat out on a low table with several open pages scattered around it's surface.

He stared at her, somewhat aghast. So trusting, to leave private correspondence from her parents unguarded. "Halyna," he made to pick them up then hesitated from the same motivation of caution. "Should you just..."

The girl took a moment to understand him, then crumpled. "Did I do something wrong? Is this okay?"

"Oh princess." Nichol hated to see her unravel and her nose was immediately red. He put a hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry, I may be overreacting. Your uncle has never been somewhere safe before... "

"The island felt safe," she rubbed at her eyes. "Everyone here keeps feeding me information. Do this or do that and it's too much. I'm afraid I'll mess up."

"Give yourself a little more time." He squeezed his fingers gently. "We've only been on the first colony a very brief time. Your father meant for you to grow up here, not jump in all at once."

"I should probably keep these more organized." Halyna systematically picked up her letters. "Perhaps Sylvia will help me."

Nichol though of Trowa then. "Do you like Sylvia?"

"Very much," Halyna nodded. Then more quietly, "She's very beautiful."

He threaded his fingers into his hair and chuckled, "I suppose so. But that can vary depending on who you talk to. I mean, your father knew Sylvia before he met your mother and it made no difference to him. That Sylvia was pretty, I'm saying. Because your mother was more beautiful. To him anyway."

Halyna waited patiently until Nichol stopped talking.

"If you get what I mean," Nichol added at last.

"I think I understand," the girl said wryly. "Besides, Sylvia didn't stay as long as I might have liked. I did get to read a great many of these letters."

Nichol had not read his yet. The series of events since receiving that correspondence had caused him to forget. "It might be best to seek Doctor J's counsel on any matters you find in these which confuse you. Let him guide you through the political things."

"Fine. Although with how he uses that fake arm, he's a little scary," Halyna confided.

Nichol had to agree.

^^^

Nichol found his letter and read the contents from the ledge of his window. The late morning sunshine warmed his skin and he had a peaceful view of the courtyard. He'd not seen Trowa since breakfast and kept half-watch for his friend's return.

Hilde updated him on the skirmishes. It seemed at the time of the letter they were decreasing as Milliardo Peacecraft had become aware of Halyna's escape.

_I do hope that you've come to trust Walker as we have. He is a good friend. We hope he supports you as Trowa did._

Ah and how that turned out, Nichol reflected. They'd heard nothing from the isolationist third colony, but Walker had been cunning if quiet and Nichol suspected Walker would have survived well enough among those people. Nichol had found it a pleasant place, with oddly intriguing fruit, even if every person there had been instructed to shun him.

_Sylvia means well, but do not talk long about Heero with her. She loved him well and wanted what she could not have. Perhaps those dreams have left her now._

Nichol decided to caution Halyna a second time in regard to the letters from home.

_When it seems possible, Heero would like you to return to us. You are worth more to us than any other kin, so if you feel you would better serve Halyna in staying, do so._

Nichol put aside the letter and watched a small group of people returning inside the Yuy walls. A person stepped out from the pack and Nichol recognized Sally. She made several motions with her hands to shoo away the others.

"That woman could out drink a fish," Nichol chuckled to himself. She climbed a few steps and met a man Nichol hadn't seen in the shadows. He'd found Trowa.

Pulling up his legs, Nichol pushed the letter into his pocket and made his way down to the lower level.

^^^

Trowa had his back to Nichol, but Sally saw him and nodded. "Hey, you look pretty good all things considered."

"Nichol?" Trowa seemed pale even in the shadows, so Nichol stood next to him to clasp Trowa's shoulder companionably.

"Hey Sally, you should see me in peace time, my endurance is even better."

"You were drinking with Captain Po?" Trowa realized.

"You lived in peace time?" Sally raised her brow. "How old are you to have seen _that_, soldier?" she laughed. "Don't fret, Barton. Your boy still has his virtue. I made sure he came home with me and not Liam or Finnegan."

Nichol shook his head, "Sally, Sal. Unless you have more to say, I've got a standing arrangement with my friend here."

"No, we're finished," Sally smiled. "Later, Nichol."

"Where did you go?" Nichol asked. "I barely spotted you this time. Or did you decide against the armory?"

Trowa sighed, "I'm trying to find a hire. I don't feel like I belong on either side of this conflict any longer."

"Not going back to the third colony?" Nichol chuckled. Then he sobered somewhat to add, "But you're a fancy catch for any army now that you're back on the active list."

"Life was much more simple a week ago," Trowa commented, falling back to lean against the shadowed pillar.

"That's what Halyna said." Nichol lifted his eyes to where he'd last seen their girl. "But she doesn't get to be a child any longer. I thought I'd stay with her, but Hilde gave me a choice."

"Stay or what?" Trowa asked.

"Return to the south. I'm considering it," Nichol said. "I don't feel like I belong here. She has Doctor J, Sylvia, the entire colony..."

"Yes, Sylvia." The taller man pushed his longer hair back from his face. "I was with Heero during that, or did you know? OZ had conveniently not-received the stand down when all the male heirs were killed. Sylvia had been hidden away, but where she was had been no secret." He looked into the distance. "Heero killed some of our allies in order to guarantee that Sally could get the girl safely away."

Nichol put his hand down, realizing he'd actually held onto Trowa the entire exchange.

As that connection had been broken, Trowa gave a bitter laugh. "I liked Sylvia, I did. But Heero told me he'd kill me if I spawned another colony-linked bloodline for the throne. That bastard. Then look what he did."

Uncomfortable, Nichol looked around them. "Sally was there." He clutched a detail. "She mentioned she had been here, with Sylvia, this entire time."

Trowa nodded. "Heero couldn't guarantee Sylvia's safety anywhere else."

"And Sally's sworn to the Yuys?"

"Noventa," Trowa corrected.

Nichol let the thoughts simmer. "Then we need to move along, Barton. Let Sylvia go back to whatever old memory she'd been. You weren't supposed to be here in the first place."

"No. If I recall that would be your fault," Trowa agreed.

"Enough," Nichol warned. "Did you book passage with _Peacemillion_ yet?"

"That wasn't..."

"Then I'll do it," Nichol smiled. Decisions were easier when he was fixing someone else's troubles.

"I hadn't decided where to go," Trowa interjected quickly. He followed Nichol trying to cut off the older man, but failing. "I suppose you think I'll just follow wherever you take me."

Nichol stopped whistling long enough to say, "Yes."


	2. As Soon As It's Brightening

"She's safe. She's with her father's people. Stop mooning like a cow who's lost her calf," Trowa scolded. Nichol turned from overlooking the bow to see his traveling companion at his side.

Captain Sally Po and the _Peacemillion_ were transporting the two men back to the mainland after an absence of almost a decade. The original mission was to take Halyna, the daughter of Heero Yuy and Hilde Schbeiker and also the prospective heir to the kingdom, to her father's holdings on the first colony island. Nichol had not exactly taken the most direct route, and concluding that assignment did leave him at a loss for what came next.

"I will die a little happier because of our time with her," Nichol grumbled good-naturedly. When they first met, Trowa had been a troublesome thorn in Nichol's plans but eventually Nichol gathered how that subtle edge complimented his own tenancy in the form of blunt blows. "It's not as if I will have children of my own."

"Would you want them?" Trowa shook his head. "And what sort of sorry woman would get stuck with you."

Nichol took a wide breath of the ocean air and pushed out his arms, his torso held balanced by the ship railing. "I'll find some trampled rose to stitch my clothes and make my meals." Then he laughed. "You were an adequate trial, my friend, but all that time on the fourth colony has made me question how low my expectations for a wife must have fallen."

"Yes, and I'm sure she'll gladly follow you into the desert on the deadly dull marches Hilde will send you." Occasionally the light of the various lanterns were tossed in their direction, but Trowa's expression remained hidden in the dark.

"You're right." Nichol brought his hands back to the rail and rubbed them against the texture of the wood. "Unless someone like Sally were to spend more than ten minutes on dry ground."

"Sally?" Trowa did laugh freely at that. "How much did you drink that day you were together? I do think you lost all your senses."

"Fine," Nichol grumbled. "I will die bitter and sad."

"No." Trowa kept his face pointed toward the sea. "Let's find some tight spot when everything looks hopeless. And I'll have your back. You'll have mine. So well fought they'll have trouble finding our dead bodies from under all the corpses of our enemy."

Nichol said, "Quite likely. We do always end up stuck together."

^^^

"Alright, soldiers." Sally found them rolling up their few belongings below deck. The first colony treasury had given Nichol enough coin to buy horses for their journey to the last known position of Hilde's troops. The likelihood of Hilde being at that place was slim, but they could track the southern camps easily enough from that point.

"Are you ready to say 'goodbye' to the ocean?" she grinned.

"Not a moment too soon," Nichol replied hastily. She stepped back to let him through the cabin door.

Trowa followed saying, "The mainland will always be his first love..."

Above deck the birds were thick among the sails. The city seemed little different than Nichol remembered. But the last time he'd seen it, he'd been carrying very precious cargo and running to see her safely aboard _Barge_.

"I wonder what Howard is up to?" Nichol asked to no one in particular.

"Any last letters for us to take on our return?" Sally stretched out her hand. Trowa waited for Nichol to answer.

"Nothing, I made my peace before we set sail," Nichol frowned somewhat. Of course writing another letter to Halyna seemed like a good idea. "How long are you staying? I might have some correspondence soon."

"Not long." Sally crossed her arms looking at the sky. "I prefer to return quickly in this weather."

"It's very nice weather," Trowa commented.

"Can't you sense the changing atmosphere?" Sally raised her eyebrows. Nichol was about to answer that Trowa had rather reliable sea senses, but the thought of making their way back to Hilde overruled his indulgence to baiting friends.

Nichol offered her a friendly salute. "Tell Halyna you saw us happy and safely on our way. Not to trouble herself over us." He then added, "And give our thanks to Sylvia. The Noventas have proven their honor in her."

Sally's eyes drifted, "I will."

Trowa had already taken a few steps away and Nichol joined him. The water seemed a prettier blue on the west coasts of the mainland. The ground warmer brown dirt and shinier green grasses. Nichol smiled. He was home.

They crossed the dock, while Nichol surveyed the signs for any place that might have horses for sale. "I suspect we'll have to go through the entire city before we find better than a painted nag," Nichol stated.

"What did you mean about the Noventas?" Trowa seemed distracted. He trotted to keep pace with Nichol who wanted to get outside of the population for a night under the stars. He might have enjoyed being home, but there were still too many people and no place to hide as he could in Heero's house.

"Yes, what?" Nichol couldn't recall.

"You told Sally..."

"Right, I thought it'd be nice. Since you were fond of the woman at one time I thought I should say _something_," Nichol frowned. "Was that wrong?"

"No," Trowa huffed. "It's just... I'm sure Sally will do the right thing."

Nichol hesitated. He heard children shouting at each other and a blade being sharpened. Nearby nickering horses pulled a cart with the jangle of metal. Trowa did not notice Nichol had stopped and they ended up in a closely tangled proximity.

Turning to look up at Trowa, Nichol pivoted slightly and saw down the incline of the straight path they'd taken to where the _Peacemillion_ pulled away into the deeper waters. Fair colored hair stood on the near deck. But between them, in the streets, rested a prison cart and six armed men in northern uniforms.

"Barton," Nichol warned. A hundred yards home and they were already pursued. How could the Peacecrafts have known?

"This is bad," Trowa grumbled dropping his belongings to better reach for his weapon. The pedestrians closest to the horses and the large dark box of a carriage drew back when they noticed the situation.

"Our orders are to bring you in alive," the first soldier stated. "Milliardo Peacecraft wants to have words with you."

"And if we resist?" Nichol had to ask.

The man smirked so that the sweat on his lip glistened. "Then he doesn't care what happens as long as you get no farther than where you stand."

The heavy sound of boots, shuffle of leather and the shouts of intrigued young boys alerted Nichol that their escape in the opposite direction had also been filled with more northern soldiers.

_How long have I been gone that the common law is Peacecraft's?_ Nichol thought, giving Trowa a sign to stand down. _What else has changed?_

^^^

The prison cart didn't stop through the night. Both arrivals had been bound by shackles then put into the dark, smothering heat. Even for the discomfort, Nichol kept shoulder to knee with Trowa during the jostling overland trip. He even found himself waking up from Trowa's sleeve at one point. The other man did not speak and Nichol remained quiet as well.

Eventually, the clues of their surroundings indicated that their transport had taken them across the river and along the road to the south gate of the capital city's wall.

"Let me speak for us," Trowa asked, low and urgent. "Our roles are reversed here. This isn't Schbeiker's territory... no matter how much she claims it."

Nichol glared, the little good it did in the darkness. "I'll try not to undermine your wise plan," he retorted at last.

Trowa chuckled to himself. It would do.

The creatures pulling the burden snorted ferociously, but seemed to have little energy to do anything else. Then the back latch opened with a clunking of a released lock. Nichol narrowed his eyes against the light. The colors beyond seemed to spin in pastels, broken only by the bulky shadow of a man.

"You're different than the other fellow," Trowa said. He bent over to shuffle the length of the cart, as directed.

Nichol's sore legs carried him out to drop by Trowa standing in the road. Around them were finely kept trees. It was an orchard. The air smelled sweet.

"You don't recognize me then, Gundam knight?" The large man made a face.

Trowa hesitated. Then with a final realization, "So you stayed with him, Otto?"

"Of course." Otto reached out and slapped Trowa's shoulder like a friend. "Lord Peacecraft wants to meet with you as soon as possible. But not in this manner." Otto snapped his fingers and Trowa immediately was unbound. "You're a free agent, so he will see you as such. Alone."

Nichol tried not to appear hostile under the other man's appraisal. Then he swallowed the humiliation of yet again being dismissed. Trowa didn't spare him a reassuring sign either.

"He is my matched partner," Trowa said, peacefully. "If you could regard him as such."

Otto bobbed his head a few times then made the same sign for Nichol's restraints to be removed. Nichol might have been shoved, but he bit off his protests.

"No time to waste," Otto declared.

"I can tell. You must have killed your men and horses for this invitation," Trowa observed. His face betrayed no thought beyond those he spoke. Nichol remembered somewhat of the young man who had infiltrated Lady Une's council and sat quietly during the war party meetings. The young enemy who had become the most important person to Nichol, excepting his kin.

"Well, if they couldn't handle a hard ride through the night, then we didn't need them," Otto replied. "I've pushed myself to the limits for my lord and he proves the stronger for it."

Then Nichol discovered himself flanked by two armed servants. "This way," one of them directed with a belated, "sir."

"We'll keep a watch on him during your meeting," Otto explained. "He'll be comfortable."

Trowa couldn't make anything different. They would have to trust that slim sense of honor some soldiers maintained regardless of their agendas in the battlefield. Nichol managed to crack a brief smile. "See you later," he said with one last glimpse of Trowa and Otto alone in the courtyard between the trees.

^^^

Nichol recalled the last time he'd been inside the northern capital. Almost half his current age and so certain that he could walk right into Heero Yuy's quarters to deliver a proposal response from a displaced young woman in love. He'd carried forged papers to gain entry through the security detail at the gates and had been only moments away from discovery when he'd found unexpected rescue in the unlikely person of Dorothy Catalonia.

She had been staying with Quatre Winner, lingering in the capital because of her connections to Zechs Marquise which labeled her a member of the Peacecraft kin when the man had changed sides.

Dorothy had been beautiful and feisty, clever and quite in love with the Gundam knight from the fourth colony.

The thought of seeing her again had not crossed Nichol's mind, but as he was guided through the darkly stained wooden walls he recalled these memories at the almost forgotten sound of her voice.

The household servant noted their approach and alerted their mistress. "Lady Peacecraft, your brother's guest has arrived."

The next room was brilliantly alive with several windows letting in a natural light. Beyond the glass, Nichol saw the same orchard but at this angle it blocked any sign of the road, travelers or the prison cart in which he'd arrived.

"Is that what they're wearing in the colonies these days?" Dorothy smirked.

"I'm sure this man has traveled a long way. Too far to think of his appearance." That had to be Relena Peacecraft. She had her honey-brown hair tied up into curls around a crown. _The Crown_, Nichol comprehended. _Had Milliardo Peacecraft put his sister on the throne during Nichol's absence?_

She had not, however, said his name. Nichol wondered if the acting Queen knew who he was or even cared. What sort of protection had Trowa tried to gain for Nichol? Hours of listening to women do... whatever high-born women do?

"Slice! Slice!"

Nichol looked down to see a wooden sword, cut for decoration not for practice, hacking at his knees. The guards had stepped back and were gone, leaving Nichol with the women and a dark-haired boy of about eight.

"Lucre, we do not treat guests that way," Relena scolded. Her voice demanded attention even though she did not raise her tone.

"He is southern scum!" The boy danced backward, stumbling somewhat on a rug. He kept the play-sword pointed at Nichol. "I will defeat him for my father and to honor my mother's memory!"

_This is our prince,_ Nichol observed. The boy's hair curled away from his face revealing shining, attentive blue eyes. Nichol had seen such an expression on Halyna's face before. Indeed, he could almost see them being related, but the similarities had to come from the child's mother. His personality was completely that of the fighting genius Zechs Marquise, traitor to OZ.

Relena called for servants and gave detailed instructions on how to care for Nichol, complete with details on what to burn, to allow and what the man could and could not wash for himself. Nichol knew he'd failed to keep his face from turning hot red at her descriptive commands.

"In turn, sir," Relena still did not know his name. "We ask that you comply to our traditions and customs while you are in my house."

He tipped his head forward. Not a bow, never a bow for this woman, but enough to accept her wishes.

Before going with Relena's attendants, Nichol noticed that Dorothy's attention had withdrawn during the exchange. Her gaze trapped far inside the hidden spaces of her thoughts.

^^^

The corrections to his hygiene were clinical and quite as if Nichol were a piece of clothing rather than a man. He tried not to think too much of his affronted privacy and put on the items they'd left for him to wear. The articles were satisfactorily neutral in their allegiance. A small kindness. Relena had to have at least known that he was sworn to a southern liege.

The room he'd been left in had a single window, fixed closed and made of distorted glass. The bed was clean, but nothing more than a well-feathered mattress. He had no available tools or weapons. But Nichol had no intention of leaving just yet. He hoped to have news from Trowa and gain some indication of Milliardo... no _Zechs Marquise's_ plots.

He had had no food for some time and as if they'd heard his wishes, servants summoned him to eat with the women.

"Tomas Nichol," Relena indicated the seat at her left. Dorothy would sit across from him.

"My lady," he said, neutrally. A fine meal with Hilde had been cross-legged on a blanket with pieces of meat thrown between them at a particularly fine joke. He summoned the small customs he'd learned on the colony and deeper memories from his childhood while staring at the plates of food set before them.

"I've asked for Lucre to eat with his father tonight." Relena indicated the remaining empty seat. "His enthusiastic display earlier was only his youth. He meant nothing by it."

_He meant every word_, Nichol smiled, saying nothing except to nod his head.

"This man does speak and more often than this," Dorothy said around a deep drink from her goblet. "What keeps you quiet, Nichol?"

"I'm sure it's good caution," Relena interjected. "Manners are universal."

Nichol only hesitated to witness the other's habits and directed his attention to eating. The produce had to come from the locals. The grains from the field. Meat from the herds easily seen by those traveling in the north. No work done by a Peacecraft had set this table. They just took. But perhaps they did gather from the orchard. His tongue hadn't tasted fruit as delicious. Not even from the third colony...

Which brought him to thinking of Trowa.

"If you have a question, ask it," Relena smiled, noticing his quandary. "As you can see, Dorothy speaks her mind freely."

_Why wouldn't she?_ Nichol hesitated. Dorothy had always been free with her thoughts and opinions. Then he remembered a conversation from long ago. When Dorothy had said of Relena, "Her tempers fall on peasant and lord alike."

"I-," he faltered, then gained confidence. "I simply wonder about the well being of my friend." He wiped his fingers on a cloth to hide his nerves. Politics were not his advantage. He did better with an order, which he would follow until the end.

Dorothy's lashes fluttered, looking at him and away without expression or mocking him whatsoever for his forthrightness. Relena did not betray any reaction and said, "I'm sure we'll hear more after my brother has had time to discuss the options with Knight Barton."

^^^

Nichol had not been more bored in his life. Even the barren landscape on the southern most coasts of the fourth colony had given him space to run and chase a younger Halyna among the rocks. Relena's household consisted of dark corridors and tightly secured rooms. Except the sitting room where they'd first taken him. In there were places to paint and play music. Enough open floor space to practice dancing, or in Lucre's case _faux swordplay_.

"You may do anything you like in this room while we are here," Relena instructed. "Dorothy does sing very well. Perhaps you do also?"

Nichol had declined. Chirping a duet like a caged bird held no appeal. Instead, he found a thick book and sat in the chair farthest from the women.

After the second night, servants led Nichol to breakfast where he found the chairs empty except for the leisurely slouching figure of Milliardo Peacecraft. The man had a leg hooked over the arm rest of his sister's chair. The table had a setting for two and Nichol sat in the place prepared normally for Dorothy.

"Surly as ever, eh, Tomas," Milliardo said, moving his leg and leaning across the corner of table between them. "You were small and easy to pluck as a boy. Like this." The man lifted a slice of an apple and made to feed it to Nichol.

Nichol went cross-eyed unsure of the man's intent. All he saw was the piece of fruit and the man's red-stained knuckles.

"And there are the blushing cheeks," Milliardo relented almost immediately. "Is that what Barton likes about you so much?"

Nichol stopped listening in order to stare at Milliardo's arms. Not only were the man's knuckles bruised, but his shirt cuffs were stained with red.

_While he had been _reading_ in Relena's parlor_... "Where is Trowa?" Nichol asked, biting the words fiercely. "Did you kill him?"

Milliardo moved his hand to study the back of it. He spread his fingers then tested them to make a fist. He followed through with the punching motion. "No. He is not dead. We've been discussing his _future_," Milliardo explained. "And also your own. See, he's very fond of you."

The man tried to approach Nichol's lips with another piece of fruit. "Try this, it's very good."

"No." Nichol turned away slightly, but did not take his eyes away from the man ruling as king.

"Don't turn it down _now_..." Milliardo chewed the fruit instead. "This is what Barton has purchased for you so far. You might have some higher cause which you think you must be loyal to, Tomas, but that just isn't what is true. And Barton knows that. The Gundam Knights all determine their own loyalties, as it has always been that way for the damn colonies."

Nichol pressed his fingers against the material of the tabletop. "Then why do you have to hurt him, if he sees things the way that you do?"

"Ah, this?" Milliardo pulled at his sleeve to show off the stains. "The blood isn't Barton's. Not at the moment... see I have another very uncooperative guest. But he's been quite difficult to break over the years."

_Another?_ Nichol sorted the information. If Heero had been captured that news could not have been kept secret. Chang Wufei had remained on his island after Sylvia Noventa fled. That left Duo or...

Dorothy was also Relena's guest.

"You understand?" Milliardo nodded. "Yes, Relena has taken Dorothy to clean up Knight Winner. He has lost quite a lot more blood than you'd think from these stains. We thought that she might perhaps give him some comfort while he considers his options."

"What's the point?" Nichol snapped. "The Gundams have always taken sides as they wanted. That was their power. Untied loyalty, freely given... you can't force it."

"But I can hold their loyalty. You. Miss Dorothy... you have their affections. And if I have you, I should be able to direct the knight however I please." Milliardo sat back. "At least in your case, I don't have to worry about the colony man fathering a child on you."

Nichol glared.

The ruler stood and motioned at the food. "Eat, be happy. Remember."

As soon as Peacecraft disappeared, Nichol tipped over the entire table with its contents and punched the wall until he put his fist through it.


	3. A Place To Bury Strangers

Not long before the battles in Academy Valley along Lake Victoria, OZ had tasted first blood at the hand of a colony Gundam Knight. Of course, the Alliance under Noventa would crumble eventually but the simultaneous attacks indicated that the people across the ocean would be a part of the season of change. Treize Kushrenada along with his best friend, Zechs Marquise, used that misdirected momentum to pierce the security of the palace as the Gundam Knights and Treize's troops found themselves fighting side by side.

No one thought to ask of purposes or intent. Just the savage need to revolt. Certainly the knights had their original interests and Treize polished his ideals, but in the end it was Milliardo Peacecraft's revenge which cut straight to the prize.

Nichol had been dreaming about that first battle, when his sword seemed to drip with blood. The attack had been a massacre. Those who tried to flee through the valley had to avoid the pits of tar. Those who didn't manage so well were held captive in the earth until a blade would run them through--a slaughter that might have turned his stomach, if Nichol remembered much of it. He'd been cut along the brow, one eye closed from the damage and sealed under his own dried blood. The men screamed until he did them the favor of feeling nothing.

_Someone else did this,_ Nichol remembered. _Some soulless doll took my blade through this valley. It was not _me.

Then he'd stumbled with the other survivors of Kushrenda's forces to the rallying call.

Not all the voices of those in pain had been silenced. He'd concentrated very hard on the orders of his commander and went to the main gate as instructed.

He'd returned to himself then. Wondering at the tears along his sleeves. The throbbing in his head. How long had the battle been, he had wondered. It felt as if he'd only just lead the march into the valley, but his muscles were past wearied and he feared if he stopped moving he would topple over like a felled tree.

Girls had been at the gate. Who were they? They'd handed him flowers, which he refused. But one put a blossom by his ear and the other took a wet rag to wash his face.

"You can't go in like this."

Nichol's legs trembled. Which battle was this? They all seemed the same. The girl winked at him from under her long blonde hair. He grabbed her, balancing against her shoulder as he became dizzy. "I'll get you out of here," he promised. She laughed.

The Kushrenada flag snapped in the breeze over the main tents. He took his leave of the girls and went to complete his report on the battle. What did he have to say? _I'm alive. They are not._

The memory stuck with him. Five of them at the table together. Treize motioning him forward with a twist of a very white glove. At his side the blond man, Zechs Marquise who Nichol remembered from his childhood. Also Lady Une who narrowed her eyes at the same time she started to smile.

"Get him a chair." That had been Hilde. She didn't look much better than Nichol imagined he did. Mud had been washed from her face, but still ruined most of her dark hair into knots. Hilde fought with the rest of them. He loved her for that.

He sat down in the chair roughly, uncertain he could stand again or quickly. This was the place where Treize assigned him to work for Lady Une and when Hilde had given him a title by officially putting him into her family. That had felt good. He'd earned something from that gap in time filled with flesh, mud and the different ways to kill a man.

Five people at the table. He'd belatedly, under their smiles and praise and vague indifference, turned to see the sneaky (_no other word to describe it_) eyes on the inexplicably innocent face of Trowa Barton.

No, he hadn't accused Trowa then. But he'd known in his soldier's gut that Barton was different. Something more than who he claimed to be, but somewhat less than the terrifying danger Nichol originally feared.

"You're the only one who actually led his battalion into the tar pits," Trowa had said.

"Nichol knows how to follow an order," Lady Une had agreed. "That's why we were able to defeat Noventa's generals."

"Even if it means I left someone else to die?"

_Who'd asked that?_ Nichol turned in his sleep. That wasn't right, not how he remembered it.

"We trust soldiers to run up hills. Run, Nichol. Follow your orders."

^^^

After the visit from Milliardo Peacecraft, Nichol had spent the day in his room like a cell. He expected worst. He expected to hear that somehow his actions had brought consequences on himself, or, more likely, Trowa. He'd slept when the anger settled into a fever.

Then he'd heard a key in the lock and sat up immediately. He still wore his boots, which was as prepared as he could be under the circumstances.

Relena Peacecraft dressed in an abundant quantity of skirts and frills still wore the crown of the kingdom. She stepped inside, but left the door open when she spoke, "The property is repaired and we understand that you might not have enjoyed the information that Milliardo shared with you."

"Not at all," Nichol interjected. He'd thought long about Dorothy's bitterness and moments of withdrawal. The Peacecrafts had found a way to gain the use of the Gundam Knights by holding captive those people the knight would protect. It was a simple and pure way to approach a battle, but one that had been completely the Gundam Knight's freedom. Before now.

"We've kept order in this country for years, Tomas," Relena said with the academic indulgence of a home tutor. "The roads are repaired, the cities are guarded, and the people are managed fairly. The colonies may negotiate their relationships with us. They are no longer limited to our will on the mainland. Many many good changes have taken place since you left."

Nichol tried to conceal his facial expressions throughout her speech. Relena believed what she was saying. She might actually be telling the _truth_.

"One leader or the next? What does it matter... as long as the people are treated fairly. My brother and I are striving to create a world in which no one is conscripted to battle again. No soldiers are ordered to take up arms against their brothers." Relena let her hands cross in front of her where she must still hold the key to his door.

_Was anyone in the hall?_ Nichol wondered.

"Can you understand the reasonableness of our wishes? Have we treated you in the manner you would expect of political prisoners?"

"I don't know how you're treating Trowa," he said. Could he stand? Or would that seem too forward? "Your brother said Quatre Winner was wounded..."

Relena's eyes dropped and her emotions flickered into sadness. "He was fighting for us and had been gravely injured."

"Liar," Nichol whispered.

"I do not lie." The unshed tears burned under the intensity of her denial. "I would do anything to make Heero stop this pointless fighting."

"You've been fooled."

"Ask Dorothy, if you won't believe me. It's true." With that, Relena became calm again. "No one should be fighting anymore. This war is over."

^^^

Nichol had been staring at the same page of his book for several minutes. Dorothy's comment tinkled into the quiet like breaking icicles, "Did they enlighten you to our situation?"

Looking up at her, properly put together and camouflaged against his intuition as always, Nichol closed the book and tossed it onto the footrest. Relena did not look their direction, but she might be able to hear them. In the distance between, Lucre tirelessly attacked a piece of furniture by battering it with his toy sword.

"They seem to think that Trowa and Quatre Winner will take orders if you and I waste away here with Relena," Nichol summarized.

"The Gundam knights aren't the same as they used to be." Dorothy sat on the arm of his chair. She took his hand between hers. "They've been gone from the colonies too long and they want peace as much as... Relena does."

_Oh well done, Dorothy._ Nichol tightened his fist around the paper he found pressed into his palm.

"Dorothy," Relena called over. "Do you know what I did with the green thread? It's not in the basket."

"Go back to reading your book." Dorothy's smile was tight, as were the lines around her eyes. How long had she waited here for Quatre?

"Dorothy..." he started to ask.

"Your queen has commanded you. Obey! Obey before I slice you." Lucre appeared suddenly, pointing his sword. If the child were to be given anything with a true edge, neither Dorothy nor Nichol would have blood left in their veins for all his _slicing_.

"Come here," Nichol said to the boy while Dorothy kept Relena's attention.

Warily, Lucre hesitated before going back to his play.

_Good enough,_ Nichol thought. He pointed at the sword, "Does your father have anyone teach you how to use that thing properly?"

"I use my sword properly," Lucre frowned.

Nichol picked up the book and put it back on the shelf. Turning, he looked down at the boy who drew back somewhat at the sudden height difference. The child had his father's shape to his face, but the fright in his eyes was something Nichol had never seen in Milliardo.

"Do you want someone to teach you?" Nichol knelt then. The boy refused to look, but he'd started to hope. _Why was Milliardo ignoring his son?_

"Stop," Relena stood suddenly. Nichol put his hands on his knees, uncertain why she addressed him so quickly.

"I was only asking..." he began.

"What did Dorothy give to you?" Relena glanced between both of her hostages with a calculating set of her brow. "Come here, Lucre."

"He offered to teach me with this." Lucre lifted the sword by both hands. "Please, may I?"

Relena called in her servants, but spared the boy a confused moment of her attention. "What do you want?"

"He knows how to teach me this. He offered," Lucre explained again, patiently for once. The boy knew what he wanted.

Relena's servants waited for her command while she considered her nephew. "We will discuss this with your father," she said. Then to her household staff she waved at Nichol. "Search him."

"Here?" Nichol protested.

"Yes," Relena nodded. "And completely."

^^^

Dorothy gave Nichol several lengthy stares across the table during their dinner which made Nichol uncomfortable. He knew she was wondering where he'd hidden her contraband, but it didn't help that he'd been stripped naked once again and in front of everyone this time. Dorothy had gone pale. But when it had become clear that he had nothing unexpected on his person, Relena had allowed him to put on his clothing.

Lucre had been more excited about the possibilities of learning how to use his toy sword that he had to be reminded several times about proper dining etiquette by his ever-patient aunt.

"I can't wait to show my father everything that I learn," the boy announced. He went cross-eyed while trying to organize a row of small vegetables onto his fork. "Then I will use these skills to defeat the south. My mother will rest then."

Nichol's cheeks tried to smile when the boy turned to stare at the older man.

"And I will kill you," Lucre stated. For a few moments the only sounds were that of food being cut. Belated the boy added, "But I'll be gentle. Because I will have learned my strength from you."

"I believe what you're describing is an execution," Relena stated. "When the king must slay a captive enemy of the people in order to keep his kingdom safe. Is Nichol our enemy?"

"Of course," Lucre's brow furrowed. "He is sworn to... to..."

Dorothy said, "Heero Yuy."

"The Schbeikers..." Relena's voice overlapped.

"Let's not confuse the issue." Dorothy set her goblet down with forced restraint. "They are the same family now. Don't forget who he married, Relena."

"Stop confusing me," Lucre's voice shrieked.

"If you practiced your lineage studies as often as you used that sword, then you would have another sort of strength," Relena explained to her nephew.

"But you are the one who is mistaken, Relena. The boy wouldn't find Tomas Nichol's name on the documents you've given to him," Dorothy smirked. "The Peacecrafts didn't acknowledge any southern family lines after the start of the war."

"He's a peasant?" Lucre struggled to keep up with the conversation. "I can't be taught by a commoner."

Nichol wondered who had kept the boy prior to Relena. It seemed her calm demeanor had not influenced Milliardo's heir whatsoever. In a strange moment of wistfulness, Nichol considered Halyna and her situation on the first colony with her tutors, Doctor J and Sylvia Noventa. The lingering compassion he found inside himself lasted just long enough to turn to the boy and say, "I am the last of my family, but an honorable soldier."

Lucre settled back in his seat, arms outstretched with his fork balanced just over the plate. "Alright," he said while the women watched him. "Still I must ask my father."

^^^

"Do you want to play?" Relena offered Nichol a seat at the game table. Lucre had been sent to bed and Dorothy had declined further entertainment for the day.

"I've not got the head for strategy," Nichol admitted. "Nor the stomach for constantly losing."

"Fair enough." Relena went onward to pick up a violin. She played badly and sometimes practiced in the evenings. When she did, Dorothy claimed a headache and left immediately.

"That's Quatre's, isn't it?" Nichol asked.

Relena settled the instrument near her chin, took the bow and nodded. She set about tuning the strings.

"When do I get to see Trowa?" he pursued another answer.

"It doesn't matter if you see him or not," Relena said. She knit her brow together responding to a sour note. "Or do you think you could persuade him to take a different course of action?"

Nichol remained silent.

"Gundam knights do what they will to do no matter what the people say. You may change your feelings, but you obey your honor-bound allegiances as a soldier. All the Gundam knight has is his heart and it wants what it wills." Relena's voice carried over the dissonant chords. "I learned this from my own efforts. Which is why the Gundams are the most necessary knights to have under our control. It's the only way to ensure peace."

"If that's what you call this," Nichol frowned. "Then why are you making them fight each other? That's where you sent Quatre, yes? Is that why I can't see Trowa now?"

"You said that you are no good at strategy, Tomas," Relena grinned. "Don't start now."

"I think you and your brother cannot find anyone to fight for you," Nichol retorted.

"You'll only lose this argument." Relena pointed at him with the bow. "Maybe you should go back to your reading."

Nichol took a long, sustained breath, then turned to the bookshelf and what he had been reading earlier. He sat in the chair where he usually did his reading far away from the others. Looking back at Relena, she swayed with her efforts on the stolen instrument.

Opening the book, Nichol carefully found the piece of paper he'd hidden between its pages. Dorothy had given him two words of warning.

"Maganac. Tonight."

^^^

Nichol lay awake on his mattress throughout most of the evening. When nothing happened and the daylight filtered in through the thick glass, he went to breakfast as usual. Lucre was joining them later in the day as he'd requested the conversation with his father regarding the lessons. Dorothy seemed to have slept badly as well, although Relena did not draw attention to anyone's lack of rest. They had all been overly antagonized, but something had changed.

Relena had suspected something during their short exchange the day before, so any actions would surely be inspected as thoroughly. He did not know how to tell Dorothy he'd misunderstood her message if that indeed was the case.

"How did Lucre's mother die?" Nichol asked. Looking long enough at the empty chair had brought the question to his thoughts.

Relena looked at Dorothy before answering. "Lucrezia had always been somewhat unhealthy during her pregnancy. But Lucre and she both survived. Eventually we learned that her condition had a recognizable symptom, but by that time it was too late."

"So she had a plague?"

"No," Relena pushed away her plate. "It was the work of the most cowardly sort. Wouldn't you say, Dorothy?"

"I've lost my appetite," Dorothy replied, with a strange confidence in her tone. "And if you want to know, Nichol, the Peacecrafts believe that Quatre had poison put into their food."

"Still denying it," Relena shook her head. "We found the potion in your bedchambers."

Dorothy laughed, "When have I ever done something so indirect? And who would believe that Quatre could..."

"Milliardo does," Relena interrupted. "You had access and, clearly after all of your trips to the south, a motivation to destroy the royal family. We've found no one else who could be responsible."

Nichol remembered the blood on Milliardo's knuckles. "Is it possible that your brother is crazy?" he asked, heedlessly. "The only poisons I could see Dorothy using are from her own tongue."

"Thank you," Dorothy gave him a fierce appraisal.

"This is not up for debate," Relena stood. "And we will not talk about it again. Most certainly it will never come up in Lucre's hearing."

^^^

_Who would poison your mother?_ Nichol wondered as he showed the boy how to balance the sword.

"Is this good?" Lucre's face glowed after receiving a positive response. The boy stepped in and out of the posture, then hit Nichol across the shin. "Teach me to slice!"

"Sometimes you have a good connection," Nichol said, looking at Dorothy. She idly sat by the chess board twisting a piece between her fingers while she watched.

"Like this?" Lucre hit him again.

"Watch your fingers." Nichol reached down to reposition the boy's hand. "You should ask your father for a proper practice sword. We could take these lessons outside, too. Fresh air and some space to move around."

"Aunt..." The boy began to shout his question.

"We will ask your father." Relena looked up briefly from her needlepoint. She let her gaze linger long enough to give them both a smile.

Nichol turned away. He had no idea what Relena saw in him that was worth her smiles. As it was, he had a very good notion that an avenue of escape sat nearby, but with the fortified nature of Relena's home he considered it likely the Maganac could not get inside. And unless they'd recruited locals into their army, their ethnic appearance was unlikely to make a very good disguise.

Why they had waited so long to rescue their commanding officer's woman puzzled Nichol somewhat.

^^^

The second day of practice, Nichol and Lucre were awarded a space in the orchard to train. A guard in northern gear kept watch from the shade of one of the trees during the lessons. The glass wall of Relena's parlor faced that piece of property and Nichol could hardly see what was happening inside as the bright sun reflected back at him in sharp white light and a darkness that made him squint.

"Here now," Nichol guided the boy. "Move like this with your foot. Close... just a bit more. No."

Nichol stepped back and scratched at his neck. The weather had not become unpleasantly warm, but his clothing stuck fast to him with sweat.

"Hey," Nichol called to their supervisor. "Would you stand in while I help the... Prince with his footing."

The northern soldier hesitated, but Lucre responded with his typical impatient authority. He commanded, "Come here and do as he says."

"My thanks," Nichol sheepishly deferred to the other man. "But perhaps you could take my weapon?" He handed the wooden stick to the man who accepted it.

Lucre learned quickly and demanded lessons twice a day. The other man, Alex, gamely took the role of tapping the boy's sword as an opponent while Nichol taught Lucre to mirror Nichol's movements.

"Who did your family serve?" Alex asked, taking off his hood and dropping it under the nearest tree.

"My parents had connections to old man Romefeller," Nichol confided.

"That's troublesome," chuckled the other man. "We all moved under his banner to bring down Noventa. What battles?"

Nichol remembered the rush, the chase into the valley and the sticking tar. "I was at Academy..."

"I don't believe it," Alex's face smiled. "No one went into Academy Valley. There was a nice path around the lake..."

"But we won it," Nichol reminded. "Because not everyone went around."

"You were with _those bastards_ that cut them in the back?" Alex whistled. "That was some wretched fighting. How many of you made it out again?"

"I'm not sure." Nichol didn't know the answer. He didn't know how long he'd been in that place either. He pushed the images away until he could remember the chair Hilde had ordered for him to sit on while Treize Kushrenada gave Nichol his new orders.

"We were ordered to go in, but I was lucky to have a commander with self-preservation in mind," Alex admitted. He slipped his belt from his waist and let the weight of his weapon fall into the grass. "What a battlefield. If it wasn't the blade, the earth itself was going to eat you. That valley..." Alex shuddered. "I bet you have nightmares about it."

"Not really," Nichol shook his head. "It was orders."

"That must have been one strong allegiance," Alex laughed.

"What about you?" Nichol stepped around Lucre after giving the youth an encouraging compliment.

"Me?" Alex asked. "I like where I'm at right now. The kingdom is Peacecraft's..."

Nichol breathed a laugh and stepped in to share the shade with Alex. "But it wouldn't matter to you if it'd been old man Romefeller or Treize?"

Alex blinked lazily and shrugged. "Soldier's don't have to worry about that sort of thing. One order is as good as another if it wins. Which is something you might have kept in mind. Why are you in the hen house?"

"Why?" Nichol brought his arm around Alex's neck and knocked the other soldier to the ground, unconscious. "Because I keep my allegiances."

"Is he okay?" Lucre asked, turning from his forms and only seeing Alex on the ground.

Nichol hesitated. He should kill the boy. He should go back for Dorothy. He should find the Maganac.

He needed to rescue Trowa.

^^^

The trees of the orchard were lined in rings around Relena's house. Pushing between them, Nichol was able to see the inner wall. It was not perfect in its structure as she'd only taken one of the former residential holdings in the condition the Peacecrafts had found it.

A piece of luck. Nichol glanced around. No one had called an alarm. Although, he couldn't be certain that he had not been seen through the window. He had to act as if he were being followed.

He took a running start and grabbed at the broken edge of aged rock. Lifting himself, he made it to the top of the wall and surveyed the opposite side. The ground dropped suddenly into long grass and brush. In the distance he could see houses, the main street, and the larger city wall. He might have a chance if he took the waterway.

Nichol dropped a second later and rolled to a shaded place beneath the brush.

He veered away from the main road and moved as quickly as possible in the vegetation. If he needed a road, he did not have papers to prove himself and would be arrested as quickly as the people restrained him. The likelihood of finding anyone friendly was improbable with Dorothy and Quatre in Peacecraft's keeping. Perhaps the Maganac...

Nichol shook his head. He needed to keep focused.

Relena had pretty words to describe her circumstances. Milliardo had revenge haunting him. Alex lived his life with little regard for honor. Trowa...

Nichol would not say his chosen path was any better. He didn't know if it made anything right: killing Noventa's men who had fled into the valley or leaving behind the one person Nichol cared about most.

_"Nichol knows how to follow an order."_

He'd promised his loyalty to Hilde all those years before because he trusted her. He had to trust or he had nothing else. The final instruction she'd given to him was to return south.

He was overdue.


End file.
